Several crises have entirely gone me by. Sorry for the bad English, as a foreigner excuses I have. This week is Passover, Easter, and tax time combined. And I laugh. Because I am so foreign. Oh bally yes.
One of the regulars at the cigar lounge, in answer to the question how his Seder was, explained that his in-laws presented a roast Passover ham for dinner, and that he at that point quietly put the matze back in his bag.
I didn't even bother asking him about the plagues and the chrein. Another one regaled us with an account of his twelve year old accidentally refilling her glass repeatedly from the Manischewitz jug instead of the Concord grape juice and being lit as a fireworks display for the rest of the night.
And a third just grunted apathetically while finishing the cookies.
From all this I gather that Passover, for some of the people I know, may not have been fully Peysachdik. Nisht 100% koisher le Peisekh.
The Christian element is not any better off. Today starts a lamentation and guilt extravaganza that will be finally alleviated only by egg salad sandwiches and cheap rodent chocolate.
And intestinal gas.
I don't participate in either the Passover, Or the resurrected Bunny Rabbit and Egg Hoojemahah. Not because I don't want to, but because I am apparently far too anti-social to trust around your kids.
Nor do I fruss much over tax time.
Been there, done it.
The full extent of my involvement is that on Saturday in Marin I might have an egg salad sandwich for lunch (Seven Eleven should have that on matze, one hopes), and on Sunday in lieu of rabbit in champagne sauce I will have Chinese food. As is multidenominationally correct, yes?
Today is, I believe, Good Friday.
So suffer, Christians.
No matze brei either.
Sunday I shall be off. Like many people I shall take the opportunity to eat something good, unconnected with either Passover or Easter.
The rest of you, please be constipated.
Woo hoo, bitches.
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